Those hands found hers, pulling her close, the air around them thinning as the space between them lessened. She stumbled forward, feet tangled in the uneven pavement, nervous as she drew closer, fearful of averting her eyes from his in case the moment were to end. Silence reverberated through the night, spinning around their bodies, forcing her to stifle quickened breaths. He stared at her lips, coral, upturned in a half smile as not to reveal her pure elation at their nearness. A quick gasp broke the calm; he had grabbed her against his chest, a brazen action that sent her blood pulsating through her veins, mouth throbbing from where she had bitten her lip. He ran a thumb over the afflicted area, soothing away all pain and leaving in its wake a renewed sense of feeling, electrified from the brief contact. It was preparation though, as he began to push his face toward hers, nearing a culmination. She closed her eyes, though only a blink as to remain within the reality of this moment, far too afraid that maybe he wouldn’t be there when she opened her lids, finding only darkness where he had once stood. His warm breath brushed over her skin, warming her cheek. Her heart quaked within her chest, a sure indication that the anticipation of his mouth against her might in fact kill her before it could ever come to fruition. She waited. She waited. She waited.
“I swear to God, if I have to listen to one more political attack ad, I’m going to scream. Or vote independent. I haven’t decided which.” Katherine’s voice raked her ears, nails on a chalkboard when compared to the serene silence of her daydream. The anticipation of finally kissing him, of finishing what they had started two summers ago, was far more satisfying than living in her bland reality.
“I’m not even registered so, there’s that,” Amanda sighed, curling a leg under her body to sit upright. The change of position focused her attention on the present. Far too frequently, Amanda found herself allowing her mind to slip into a fantasy world in which she enacted all the moments that had never been fulfilled. It served as a perfect vehicle for achieving the positive sense of self she longed to possess. Through each moment, she was the protagonist in her own story, creating action where there had been only ineptitude. To be free for merely minutes, no longer subjected to the constant barrage of negative reality, was something she granted herself each day, in an effort to maintain some semblance of sanity. Reaching forward, she popped a piece of popcorn into her mouth from the bowl between her legs, feeling the remnants of kernels crack against her molars, grounding her within the space of her small bedroom, pulling her away from the image of that fateful September evening that never was.
“I swear to God, if I have to listen to one more political attack ad, I’m going to scream. Or vote independent. I haven’t decided which.” Katherine’s voice raked her ears, nails on a chalkboard when compared to the serene silence of her daydream. The anticipation of finally kissing him, of finishing what they had started two summers ago, was far more satisfying than living in her bland reality.
“I’m not even registered so, there’s that,” Amanda sighed, curling a leg under her body to sit upright. The change of position focused her attention on the present. Far too frequently, Amanda found herself allowing her mind to slip into a fantasy world in which she enacted all the moments that had never been fulfilled. It served as a perfect vehicle for achieving the positive sense of self she longed to possess. Through each moment, she was the protagonist in her own story, creating action where there had been only ineptitude. To be free for merely minutes, no longer subjected to the constant barrage of negative reality, was something she granted herself each day, in an effort to maintain some semblance of sanity. Reaching forward, she popped a piece of popcorn into her mouth from the bowl between her legs, feeling the remnants of kernels crack against her molars, grounding her within the space of her small bedroom, pulling her away from the image of that fateful September evening that never was.
